Dead

In an abyss of madness I am overwhelmed by the fog It feels like I die I crawl, I bleed I suffocate, I choke I fall, I feed I float in the ocean Of crimson and scraps I lay with the trash And to the filth I’m entrapped Savory revulsion to The taste the buzzard crows The sparrow peaks loudly And my heart shatters so I am dead in my skin I am cringing, growing thin I am walking on my toes Chipping flesh and cracking wind A reverie of bliss Is at my fingertips Yet my limbs are ripped apart And I am left a torn misfit Torn inside Torn abroad Left to hide Or a forced façade Inflaming the drama Inflaming the rage Infecting the scabs And growing younger by age My mind is dwindling As my eyes, grow black For the windows are clogged And there is no return back I am overwhelmed by the fog Marinating deep Melting fast within the bog With no desires to weep As I disrobe my flesh There lays a throbbing heart A draining organ And it feels like I die My blood spills And infiltrates the sky Ultimately dead I am holding on to my faith I am dripping with red And sweating beads of disgrace The buzzard flies away To a more deserving prey I am clinging to my skin Forever distraught and in dismay I am overwhelmed by my state And often offered a hand But I am hollow within my shell And willingly Dead I stand